


good heart and desire to please

by w4st3d4u



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Fluff and Angst, High School, Light Sadism, M/M, Omegaverse, Size Difference, Unresolved Emotional Tension, dont read this im just repressed, eric is a heartless bad boy n fucks kyles brains out, hes an arrogant piece of shit n i love it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 04:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12226188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w4st3d4u/pseuds/w4st3d4u
Summary: He grabs ahold of Kyle's throat, choking him."Do you want me?" Cartman asks.Kyle nods, struggles to breathe. Cartman's fingers tighten and he frowns."Use your words, cunt."





	good heart and desire to please

**Author's Note:**

> inb4 self indulgent kyman fic
> 
> i need more assholesexgod!eric in my life. title from covet by basement

Kyle's known he's a Beta his whole life - until he isn't.

Presenting late is practically a phenomenon, what with most of his classmates showing traits or symptoms of being an Alpha or Omega, or none at all. Kyle hadn't shown any signs for years, so he and his parents had assumed the easiest conclusion to come to was that he was a patient, ambitious Beta. He had a future ahead of him, he was told.

He begins to seriously doubt these words when he feels a slight secretion from his ass. Kyle, naturally, ignores it in favor of making a sandwich in Cartman's kitchen, his mother out doing God knows what with her "book club friends".

"Cartman, what do you want on your sandwich?" he yells, then freezes, feeling slick pool in his boxers, coating the inside of his thighs.

"I don't know, Kyle. You're the bitch here -" Cartman responds, walking through the doorway and stopping in his tracks, eyes a darker shade of blue.

"It fucking stinks of Omega in here," he says, controlled with a measured voice. Kyle's glued to his spot.

Why is he just now noticing how good-looking Cartman is? Well, he's known for a while - ever since Cartman shot up to six foot five and turned totally fuckable. He hasn't just noticed, actually. He's had a thing for Cartman for the longest time, really - it's just amplified now. He's aware of how much he wants Cartman's hands around his throat and lips on his. He's needed it for a long time.

He's staring, admiring Cartman's angled, defined brows, floppy dark hair framing his face. He's got that annoying Alpha jawline and atypical straight nose, blue eyes piercing his skin.

Cartman looks like he's about to lunge forward and devour the first alive object he encounters, but Kyle's eyes follow his fingernails digging into the inside of his pale, soft arm. "Is it? Is it... you?" Cartman asks.

Kyle receives confirmation from his slick-leaking body that yes, it is. He nods, trembling with the chill blowing in through the open window.

"Get out."

"What?" Kyle exclaims, pissed off. Who can blame him? He's gone into heat in his friend's house, which is embarrassing enough, but he's also extremely hormonal right now. He should've known. He was too upset at his mom yesterday for it to be normal.

"Get out right now or I'm going to fuck you to death," Cartman answers, hand shooting out halfway through to grip onto the door frame for anything at all to brace himself. As if he can control himself for long enough, though.

The statement alone makes Kyle even hornier, losing the line between good and bad decisions. "I- I wouldn't. I can't, I don't know what to do. My fucking parents are on a holiday right now and your mom isn't home. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Where do I go?" Kyle questions, panic rising in his chest and throat.

Cartman looks just as nervous as he is, probably from all the anxious pheromones in the air. "I. I don't fucking know, just. I don't want to ruin everything even though I knew you were going to be an Omega anyways," Cartman tells him exasperatedly, holding onto the door frame for dear fucking life.

Meanwhile, Kyle's legs are shaking. He holds the knife for the sandwiches in one hand and his hair in the other, slumps against the fridge, trying to think. "Get a fucking hold of yourself, please. If you freak out about it you'll just want an Alpha even more," Cartman insists, approaching him to retrieve the knife.

He can see Cartman's face turning red with a serious amount of self-discipline as he gets closer. Kyle can even smell himself, that's how bad it is - the stench of submission, masochism, something salty and sweet. He takes the knife from Kyle's hand, makes the mistake of brushing his fingers against Kyle's. He's exercising as much self control as physically possible and still can't believe how difficult it is to not pin Kyle against the counter and fuck him until he bleeds all over the newly installed cabinets.

"Go. _Leave_ ," Cartman demands.

"I can't walk all the way to my fucking house smelling like heat, Cartman! Someone will definitely fucking rape me!" he shouts, shaking. Kyle feels dizzy, like he just took a hot shower in the middle of July. He's been head over heels for Cartman, a douchebag Alpha, ever since - well, ever since forever.

Cartman looks guilty and conflicted for a few seconds, but mostly suffering. "I am trying my hardest to hold back from sucking the life out of your mouth, Kyle. Please, for the love of God, do not make me do this."

"Please, Cartman. We don't even have to knot," he begs, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

He scoffs. "You know just how fucking successful that'll be for the both of us," Cartman rationalizes. "Needy whore."

His sizable Alpha cock bulges slightly from his black sweatpants. Kyle wants it in his mouth, in his ass, desperation creating beads of sweat that gather in the hollows of his collarbones and his temples.

Kyle pushes his hair back with one hand, pulls his shirt from his chest and throws it to the tiled floor. He now understands what heat really is - hell gathering in the innermost parts of him and making its way outwards, bringing forth animalistic need, scent, and want. "Why won't you just fuck me?" Kyle whines, giving up on finding a logical solution.

"Because you're like, destined to be with Stan! Jesus, fuck, don't act like I'm not aware of how much you pine over him! I may be ugly as fuck and a huge asshole, but I'm not fucking stupid!" Cartman yells, throwing the knife blade-first at the wall adjacent to the fridge, passing by Kyle's eyes like a flash of near death. It sticks, wedged in like someone took a hammer to the handle.

"Fuck," Kyle whispers, wiping at his eyes with the backs of his hands, stopping the tears so his headache doesn't get worse. He can feel himself dripping on the floor now, the trails of slick lining his legs.

"Jesus, Kyle, you don't even care, do you? You're so pathetic, you want me so badly," Cartman says, taking steps forward.

"I'm not in love with Stan. Fuck you," Kyle tells Cartman, pressing back against the stainless steel door of the refrigerator.

Cartman towers over him, hand curling around Kyle's hip. Kyle's got to be at least a foot shorter than him - last time he was measured he came out as five foot three. Fuck Cartman - being hot and the ( _literal_ ) biggest jerk in the town at the same time. "What did you just say to me? Have you forgotten who's in charge already? Are you that dense?"

Kyle breathes, recollects his thoughts. Just minutes into his first heat, everything is jumbled. He can barely articulate his thoughts, but he gets out a, "I'm not stupid, christ. You don't own me."

"But I really do, though. So far you've done everything that I've asked you to without hesitation," Cartman sneers. He traces the line of Kyle's annoyingly feminine cheekbones. "You're so passive and submissive, Kyle."

"Five minutes ago you refused to have sex with me," Kyle mumbles, closing his eyes just to open them and see Cartman's face above his, hand dipping under the waistband of Kyle's shorts.

"Five minutes ago I thought you had a thing for Stan. Please, shut the fuck up now, just," Cartman says, wrapping his free hand around Kyle's open mouth and squeezing like a warning. Kyle feels the blush rise in his cheeks, but stays put, cock jerking at the sensation of Cartman's slim fingers brushing over the shaved skin of his crotch. He's so far gone, can hardly think; he only feels.

Through haste and basal Alpha tendencies, Cartman picks him up like a piece of paper and slings him over his shoulder. Kyle accepts the action with nobility, cringing at how he has to twist away from the railing when they go upstairs. It all betters when Cartman throws him on the bed.

With fingers touching the hem of bottoms with intent, Cartman inhales his scent deeply, nose buried in Kyle's neck. He grabs ahold of Kyle's throat, choking him. "Do you want me?" Cartman asks. Kyle nods, struggles to breathe.

Cartman's fingers tighten and he frowns. "Use your words, _cunt_."

"Yes, I. I want you so badly," he admits, voice strained and gravelly.

Cartman tightens his hold and kisses the pain away, Kyle's tongue moving languidly against his forceful one, demanding attention. "I knew for the longest time that you needed me. You're such a slut, such a little Omega whore, Kyle," Cartman spits, licking at Kyle's neck and biting around his pulse point, hot breath coming out of his nostrils as Kyle whines, balling the fabric of Cartman's shirt into his fist.

Kyle's not even thinking when he moans, "Daddy, fuck me," with his eyes squeezed shut and his legs wrapped tightly around Cartman's waist. He's too small to rub up directly against Cartman's crotch, but he reaches the taller's ribs, so it suffices.

"God, are you for fucking real?" Cartman asks, letting go of Kyle's throat. "You fucked-up Jew bitch," he laughs condescendingly, nostrils flaring as he pulls down Kyle's bottoms with force and drags his hand down from Kyle's ridiculously hard cock to his ass, clenching around nothing until Cartman shoves three fingers into Kyle's ass, overlapping as he presses deeply against the fleshy walls. "Do you have _daddy issues_ , sweetie? Or is it that I'm so fucking dominant I remind you of your overbearing religious piece-of-shit dad? I could snap his neck in a heartbeat. Huh?"

"Both," Kyle chokes out, screaming after he finishes saying the word, feeling slight fulfillment with the three of Cartman's fingers stuffed in his hole.

"Your cunt is dripping with slick, babydoll, you know that?" Cartman says. He's so experienced, thrusting his fingers hard into Kyle - he knows so much, has so many things to do to him. It's annoying, almost, or would be, if Kyle had the energy to do anything but cling to Cartman's arms and moan his heart out.

"So gorgeous and wet for me, I'm gonna fuck you until that goddamn Omega well runs so dry you'll be begging me to press my tongue against your greedy little hole. Isn't that right? Mmm, come on angel, tell Daddy."

Kyle nods and through the haze of heat and dominance breathing hot air onto his sweaty chest, he begs. "Daddy... Daddy, I - I need your cock so badly, give me everything, give me your tongue and fingers and your huge cock, Daddy, please, I've wanted it for so long," Kyle admits, letting out an "oh, oh fuck" when Cartman brushes against his prostate with his fingertips.

"You're so slutty, fucking ginger prince, yeah?" Cartman laughs, feeling softly against the spot that makes Kyle moan and squirm, begging, "More, please more, give it all to me." He's wrapping his arms around Cartman's neck, hips rolling up towards Cartman with insatiable need that's triggered by his fingers rubbing softly against Kyle's walls. They become more insistent, though.

They push around his prostate, purposefully teasing him with a goal - to drag this out as long as possible. Despite this, Kyle's still humping up against Cartman's ribcage, desperate to get the friction between his jeans and Cartman's body to relieve him somehow. Cartman's nostrils start flaring when Kyle tugs his fingers out of his ass and sucks on them, begging around them, "Please, Daddy, please fuck me."

After that, it's game over - Cartman kicks off his sweatpants and his hoodie, leaving his stupid shirt on. Kyle couldn't care less. "You fucking _slut_ ," Cartman hisses. "You're just laying there, gonna let me fuck you for real, huh? What would Stan think, baby? What would he say about you _sleeping with me_ , begging for me, fucking your cock up into my stomach just for friction? Wouldn't he just hate you for that, sweetheart?"

Kyle nods, wails when Cartman's palm comes in harsh contact with his cheek, one slap down and three more following on his thigh. "You're such a bad boy. What would Mommy and Daddy think, Kyle? Would they be disappointed if they walked in on you worshipping me like a fucking god, on your knees and asking for my cock down your pretty little throat?" Cartman asks, lips moving against the shell of Kyle's ear.

Kyle says, "Yes, God, yes. I don't care, I need you so badly, Daddy, please. God, fuck me, hurt me, anything you want. I'm yours, Eric. I'm yours."

And like, what a fucking phenomenon, right? Because it was written in the books - Kyle and Stan, together forever. Best friends, soon-to-be high school sweethearts. But no, the obstacle had always been there and Kyle never really wanted to overcome it. He just succumbed, fell submissive to the fact that he was destined to give up any hope for Stan - sweet, vanilla Stan - for a complete fucking asshole - one who could kiss, touch, fuck ten times better and more exhiliratingly than Stan could. Eric Cartman humiliated him to no fucking end, day in and day out. It was nearing ridiculousness, but most things Kyle didn't fight back against, and that was the reality - that Cartman would always be his dominant, would always know how to do things, would always ruin his life and become the center of it no matter what. And that was okay.

And now Cartman's got the most smug fucking sneer on his face adorning his intimidating features. "You always were, Kyle." He leaves it at that, because hardly anything more has to be said, so they kiss, harder, with a goal - to cement this, to understand why they were here.

Without saying another word, Kyle knows Cartman's about to do it when he smirks filthily on Kyle's lips, a large hand wrapping around both his skinny wrists and pinning them down above him. He doesn't even take his time - Cartman's done this before, he's the least virgin-like person Kyle knows. Not that he's easy, but he's so used to sex, to fucking, to _this_ \- this, that Kyle knows next to nothing about. Eric boasts his fucking head count at lunch on the regular.

But it's still a shock, even though he feels the fat, leaking head press up against his throbbing hole. He expected something large, but not something gargantuan. And it's fucking gargantuan.

It's not a slide, but more of a shove, forcing Kyle to fucking take it, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he squirms and sighs, over and over, at this feeling of discomfort, of bliss. Cartman groans, sighing a, "Good boy, that's my good little whore," as Kyle near convulses, between crying, panting, and little yelps.

Kyle screams into Cartman's shoulder for a good five seconds, unable to even process his relief at being filled when he's being stretched to his absolute limit. He's trying to find a comfortable angle to rest his hips until Cartman's strong arm slides under his back to support him. This definitely isn't the first time he's had an issue where someone was too small to take him. "You okay, sweetheart?"

And like, Kyle fucking melts. Cartman's tone of voice is gentle and comforting, nose pressing against Kyle's. He's staring into Kyle's eyes, and for once, Kyle can't see an arrogant piece of shit behind the dark blue of Cartman's irises, only genuine concern, an unfamiliar softness that has Kyle burst into fucking tears at the sweetness, at the fullness he feels. He thinks that he is so, so in love - but it could just be the heat talking.

Cartman's easily twice his size and three times as strong. "Yeah, I'm - hurts, but I'm okay," Kyle says, blinking away the salty tears and breathes.

That's the only sound for a while, his deep breaths into Cartman's shirt and the soft exhales coming from Cartman's nostrils. It's tranquil.

As if that could last, though. The Alpha instinct is beginning to show, in clarity. Cartman is holding back so much that the hand around Kyle's wrists is shaking, trembling fingers gripping his hands so nervously tight that Kyle can feel the bones rubbing together painfully - that's probably half his grip that he's exhibiting. Cartman's aching for the go-ahead, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them to remind himself not to rape Kyle, because ignoring his instinct is an entire struggle on its own.

Kyle adjusts soon enough, clenching and unclenching his fists, breathing and reminding himself that this isn't the worst to come - a fucking baby is supposed to come out of the same hole that Cartman's Godzilla cock is occupying, so it's not the worst he'll encounter. He's weak, and almost spent already, but whispers, "Just fucking, like. Fuck me. Please," because that's all that's left to say and all that's left to do, all he needs. So when it's said and done, the amount of brute force needed to literally fuck Kyle into the metal headboard is executed, a thrust so annoyingly powerful that Kyle screams again, but not because Cartman's sharp hips against his ass hurts, but because Cartman knew exactly where his prostate was and hit it dead on.

"Daddy-y, so m-much, " Kyle manages to stutter, gripping onto the sheets for dear life when Cartman releases his hands and presses down in the general vicinity of where his prostate is, then begins to thrust in that specific spot, pressure from the inside and out being applied so forcefully that Kyle cries even more, moaning and whimpering with no savior except Eric Cartman, who keeps giving it to him, hard, fast, deep, and unforgivingly so.

Kyle is extremely disoriented, to the point where keeping his eyes open to watch it all happen makes everything so terrifyingly intense that he nearly comes, but Eric forces him to look, grabs his jaw with his free hand and says, "Don't you fucking dare close your eyes. Watch me. Watch my cock fuck your dripping cunt, Kyle. Can you feel the wet spot forming?"

Kyle waits for a second, has to recollect his thoughts and focus to reply, but he does it - "Yeah, I can feel - can, h- _haaaa, fuck me_ \- I can feel pushing far, almost fucking my intestine, Jesus, how goddamn big is it anyways?"

"Oh, you're stuttering. I'm just that good, huh? Tell Daddy how good he is to you," Cartman says, slightly out of breath. He's panting, hot breath making Kyle even sweatier and hotter than he already is. "So, so good, Daddy, know just how to fuck me," Kyle whines, earning a scratch on his back from Cartman's arm under it, stroking over the abused spot.

"It's nearly eleven inches, yeah," he responds, caressing Kyle's exposed throat, bared to show submission and obedience. Kyle whines, clenches around the size of it and repeats the number over and over in his head along with the first things that come to mind when he stares into Cartman's dark, greedy eyes.

"God, baby boy, you were fucking born for this, weren't you? Born to take a cock this big and thick, huh? I'll ruin your greedy Omega hole, won't I? No one will be able to sate you like I can. I promise, Kyle," Cartman spits venomously.

"You're not real, I have to be fucking dreaming," Kyle says into Cartman's ear, running one hand through his floppy hair.

And like, it's not as if this would be the first time he had a hyper-realistic dream about Eric fucking the life out of him. It's not a shocking notion. "I wish I was dreaming so I wouldn't have to watch what he have fade," Eric speaks, sinking his teeth dangerously close to Kyle's bonding gland, licking over it with caution.

"Fuck you," Kyle says. Regardless, he still lets that fall into a drawer of kept memories; takes his time figuring out what else to say to close the angry gap between them both.

Cartman shakes his head and laughs, thrusting with frustration now, less loving and more let-me-get-this-over-with, but Kyle won't allow it. Before he can even get a word in, though, Cartman says, "You're just waiting for me to finish fucking you so you can go back to Stan and lift the burden of him having to be your first off his guilty fucking shoulders."

Kyle twists his hands into the sheets and Cartman's hair, moaning. "Stan's an asshole and he's not nearly as fucking amazing as you are. I only need you, Eric, please just. Know. I know you do," he begs, pressing his lips against Cartman's cheek.

Cartman growls, thinks it's a challenge. "Please don't, please just. Just do this for me, okay? I need you," Kyle asks, pulling Cartman's body closer, crying out when Cartman fucks hard and deep against his prostate rather than just brushing over it like he did a few times before. "Shut your fucking mouth, please, just give me a second to fucking calm down," Cartman says between breaths and thrusts, in sync and averting his gaze from Kyle's deep green eyes, innocent and naïve - they could never begin to understand his inner turmoil, so untainted and vulnerable.

Kyle sobs softly into his chest, blubbering and moaning. He's such a mess now, dripping cock and hole on Eric's bed. He never thought he'd see Eric's sheets in this context, all messed up and spread from the fucking.

"I just wish I could ruin you, tear you open with my bare hands from the inside out," Cartman expresses his thoughts, sweat dripping from his brow.

"Eric, fucking look at me already," Kyle says. "I don't want Stan," he laughs sadly through his tears. "It's always been you. God, fuck you. You're so stupid sometimes, you know? You could've had me whenever you wanted and we both waited so long."

"Promise me. Promise me you're being truthful, baby," Cartman groans into Kyle's chest, pinning his shoulder down with an elbow.

Kyle feels everything coil in his stomach and thighs with the despair he hears in Eric's voice and the tightness of his grip, like he can't bear losing Kyle. It makes him feel like he matters. His brain short-circuiting, body trembling, he whimpers, "Yes, yes, Daddy. I promise. Promise, promise."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Kyle moans, eyes mere centimeters away from Eric Cartman's, of all people. But it's too much in the end, when he's right there, getting fucked so hard and well that his body keeps sliding against the soft mattress.

It's a lyric when Eric tells him, hardly audible and slow, like a harmony. "I maybe love you," he chokes out. For some reason it sounds angry and _pained_ rather than a confession, something meant to be sweet, loving, happy.

It's just enough for Kyle to start crying again, mouth open in a silent moan with tears cascading down his freckled cheeks. He's too conscious of everything around him, of Cartman's lips closing around his, tongue licking the inside of his mouth with his thumb wiping away Kyle's embarrassingly frequent tears. He's overly hormonal, even for an Omega in heat.

"So submissive, baby boy," Eric hums, pulling Kyle's head back by his hair and sliding the arm out from under him to hook one of Kyle's legs over his shoulder, even deeper than before, making Kyle sigh and shut his eyes, humming his feminine whimpers and moans to himself.

Somewhere between Eric murmuring and Kyle's pleasured whines ( _so childlike it feels wrong to be fucking him_ , Eric thinks) Kyle feels Eric's knot straining against the taut skin of his hole, the throb of it the dirtiest fucking thing he's ever felt or even seen in his life, even worse than Stan's hand up Wendy's skirt behind the dumpster a couple feet away from where the goths would talk about existentialism and smoke Camels ー the same hand that used to play Legos with him and make handguns while playing Cops and Robbers. "For how long?" he asks, wrapping his arms around Cartman's neck, burying his face in the milky skin.

That earns him a smack on the ass, Eric's frustrated voice growling, "Shut your fucking mouth," uneasiness hanging in the air around them, coating Kyle's thoughts like bitter syrup.

He just looks down, keeping his noises and panting to a minimum, staring at the periodic bulge in his stomach made by Eric's cock, and it would be back to normal except for the fact that Eric's knot is nearly slipping inside of him with all the slick and sweat and he wants to tell him not to, because of pregnancy, because of bonding, because of a million reasons but Eric just keeps trying to fuck it into him, malice flashing behind his eyes and he just, "You belong to me, okay? You're Daddy's property now," shoving himself in, digging his canines into Kyle's just-budding bonding gland, all fresh and sensitive on the surface of his collarbones and God does it hurt.

Kyle doesn't have time between the flood of dopamine and feeling his skin stretch around a knot the size of a chubby fist to say anything except scream Eric's name, crying like a little boy and wrapping his arms tighter around Eric's neck. Pathetic spurts come from his substantially smaller length, elbows locked near one another and his head thrown back. It should be embarrassing, but it isn't, and he can feel Eric's cum gushing into him, between the ridges of his hole. Eric hardly looks apologetic, only as intimidating as ever, his iron grip on Kyle's thigh leaves finger marks a few seconds afterwards.

Kyle wants Eric to pull out, he wants to be alone in his room again, when he was still a Beta and still a virgin, underneath the covers jacking off like a normal kid -  no emotional turmoil with one of his closest friends, no having sex, no complications. But they're stuck together for at least the next thirty minutes, and Eric stares at him, willing him to back down, to drop his eyes.

Instead, Kyle breaks ( _it's probably what Eric wanted out of him anyway_ ), slowly but surely, wrapping his legs around Eric's pelvis and blubbering a mile a minute about how much he hates him, about how he's supposed to be a respectable Beta and not have sex with random boys and how he was supposed to save his bond for someone he'll marry, sniffling and whining and clawing at Eric's back, hoping he'll let go. But he doesn't.

Eric watches him with the most sadistic smile ( _who would put it past him to get off on watching uninhibited boys have nervous break downs_ ), the kind he unconsciously got off to a couple months ago. He sneers at him, then smiles - the genuine kind - pulls him in to hold his small frame. "You wanted it, sweetheart."

And Kyle doesn't answer right away, just nods and curls up with Eric. As long as he'll let himself be cuddled, Kyle will take advantage of it.

"Do you maybe love me too?" his Alpha counterpart questions him earnestly, pushing the curls out of Kyle's warm face. Eric reads his eyes ( _like he always has_ ), deep blue searching in his green.

Of course he does.

**Author's Note:**

> i lack south park fic in my life so i might want to make an eric-centric chaptered prequel/sequel or just a series. i would make it unrelated to this fic but i just love omegaverse so much and i love this version of eric ahhh
> 
> hope u enjoyed!


End file.
